


Legacy

by OnlyOneKingLoki



Category: Tom Hiddleston - Fandom
Genre: A little angst in the beginning, AU, Dating, F/M, First Date, Fluff, High School, Tom Hiddleston/Reader - Freeform, unrequited love (for a bit)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-10
Updated: 2014-05-10
Packaged: 2018-01-24 06:25:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 8,679
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1594889
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OnlyOneKingLoki/pseuds/OnlyOneKingLoki
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>*This fic was requested and inspired by the lovely StripedCandy.*<br/>*Teen rating for language and mildy sexual innuendo.)</p><p>This is an AU where Tom is a foreign exchange student, and he has feelings for a classmate. He doesn't know whether she feels the same way, though. What will happen when a video he made for his Video Productions class is put on YouTube?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Tom

**Author's Note:**

> * I have separated each chapter by POV. The chapter titles will denote which POV the story is being told from. *
> 
> Enjoy! :)

I found myself drifting in and out of focus as my teacher’s voice droned on and on about our final grades and possibilities for extra credit. Mostly, though, I was thinking about the girl sitting one seat over to my right. I’d first noticed her when I walked into the hallway on my first day at this colorful high school. I was a bit lost, and, in my attempt to find the admissions office, I accidentally walked straight into her. Her binder had fallen to the floor, I bent to retrieve it, and when I looked up to apologize, I found myself in front of the most beautiful creature I had ever seen in my life. I was flabbergasted.

“I-I’m so sorry! I wasn’t watching where I was going,” she started. Her cheeks were glowing a bright red, and she tucked a bit of hair behind her ear. Her beautiful eyes were shifting around like she didn’t know where to look. I felt the corner of my mouth quirk up as I handed her the binder.

“No, no, it was entirely my fault. I was so busy looking at my schedule that I didn’t look up in time,” I protested, running a hand through my own curly, blond hair out of nervous habit. “Sorry, where are my manners? My name’s Tom.”

I extended my hand, and she took it after a moment’s hesitation.

“Nice to meet you, Tom. My name’s (y/n),” she replied quietly. Her smile was so sweet and gentle that it could melt the heart of an iceberg. I was smitten.

“A beautiful name to suit a beautiful lady: how very appropriate,” I said before I could think better of it. I was rewarded with another blush from the young woman in question.

“Thanks. Oh, and thank you for grabbing this,” she said indicating her binder. “You didn’t have to.”

“Of course I did. I knocked it out of your hand, so it was only fitting that I should be the one to restore it.”

“Well, it was very kind of you, all the same. You’re the new freshman foreign exchange student, aren’t you?” She asked carefully, as if she was afraid of offending me.

“Was it that obvious?” I returned with a bright grin. She chuckled lightly.

“The accent was a _bit_ of a giveaway,” she said, and she saw the schedule and map in my hand. “I’m a freshman, too. Was there anything I can help you find? I’ve been going to this school since first grade, so I could walk around it blindfolded.

“Wait, since first grade? I thought this was a high school,” I said confusedly.

“Actually, since it’s a private school, they have the ability to teach students from K4 all the way to their senior year,” she informed me. _That would explain all of the small children outside, then._ (Y/n) took my schedule and my map in hand and proceeded to direct me on the shortest routes to each class. Afterwards, I thanked her profusely, apologized for running into her once more, and headed off to my first class of the day.

I hadn’t seen her much outside of class after that. She was always kind to me when we spoke, and she had never once refused to help me. However, I felt as though we were distant in more than just time spent in each other’s presence. (Y/n) always seemed to hold back during our conversations, and she had never once made an advance, even in jest. Of course, she probably only saw me as a friend. I mean, I was meant to go to back to England for University, but I’d recently been reconsidering that decision. Sure, I loved being in the United States, but the real reason that I was considering staying is that I wanted to have a chance with (y/n) if I ever got the courage to tell her how I feel.

Now, she sat beside me twirling her hair around her index finger and staring off into space. I could tell she was thinking about something that made her happy, because she was absently smiling off into the distance. I silently hoped that one day she would think of me that way and sighed wistfully. (Y/n) was probably thinking about her boyfriend, Matt, whom she had been dating for a few months. I could see how he looked at her, and it made me so angry. Matt didn’t really care about her, because I saw the way he ignored her in favor of the attentions of the girls on the cheerleading squad. She saw the way he looked at them, too. (Y/n) took it all in stride and made it work to the best of her ability. There was only one explanation: she must really love him. What I wouldn’t do to tell her how I feel and press my lips to hers.

But I couldn’t; I couldn’t stand to see a relationship ruined because of me. So I stayed silent, and it was killing me.

“Mr. Hiddleston,” my teacher called, snapping me out of my thoughts.

“Yes, sir?”

“I want you to stay after class for a moment, today,” he said, and I immediately replied with a ‘yes, sir’. The bell rang, and I watched my angel leave, struggling under the weight of her textbooks. How desperately did I want to go and help her, to go and be her knight in shining armor! Then _he_ was there, and all I could do was clench my jaw as he saw her straining to keep the books in her arms yet did nothing to alleviate her suffering. I turned away, then, because I knew that if I looked a moment longer I would do something I very much regretted.

“Mr. Hiddleston, I think it would be to your benefit if you took advantage of the extra credit opportunity that I mentioned in class, today,” my teacher said, looking down at me over the rims of his glasses. _Shit, what was the assignment again?_

“I…um…I was planning on it, sir,” I lied through my teeth. “But I was wondering if you could go over the specifics once more, just so that I know I’ve got them all down correctly.”

“Alright, well, it needs to be a video of at least five minutes. You can choose the theme and the format, but it has to meet the overall qualification of a legacy video. However you do it, it has to reflect something left behind for future generations,” he said. “That’s pretty much it.”

“Great. Thank you, sir,” I said, and I made to gather my things. As I was standing up, I felt a hand on my shoulder pushing me back down. I looked up and my teacher’s face was solemn. _Oh, shit._

“Mr. Hiddleston, you’re usually such a diligent student. What has happened with you lately? You’ve been slacking off, and I can see absolutely no reason why,” he said seriously. “Care to explain why my best student is suddenly in dire need of extra credit?”

I swallowed once, convulsively.

“I just feel like I’ve lost my focus, sir. I don’t know what else to tell you, sir,” I said. He nodded once.

“Does his have anything to do with a girl, Tom?”

I felt my face heat up, and I stammered.

“Well, I—I just…um,” I managed before my teacher chuckled.

“I knew it, and I think I know who it is, too,” he said, and he noticed how uncomfortable I looked. “I’ll let it be, but you really should do that extra credit.”

I nodded, grateful that he’d let the subject drop. I finally got up and went to lunch, spying out (y/n)’s location in the process. I saw Matt sit down next to her, whisper something in her ear, and receive a sharp slap to the face in response. (Y/n) got up and stormed out of the lunchroom, and, for a moment, I thought about following her. I struck that thought down, however, when I remembered how I was probably the last person she would want trying to talk to her about that asshole.

The rest of the day, I watched (y/n) carefully for any signs of distress, and saw nothing but…was that relief? I decided against any contact with her for the rest of the day, because I honestly had no clue what to say to her. _I’m such a coward,_ I thought, and I drove back to my aunt’s home.

\---

The next day, I corralled some of my best friends who were also seniors, and we made the video together. I filmed them answering the question of ‘What do you most regret doing or not doing from your entire high school career?’ Each of them made sure to give a good answer, and they easily met the five minute requirement. I didn’t feel right without answering that question myself, though, so I had one of them switch with me. I contemplated my answer for a few minutes before I gave them the ‘go ahead’, and when I opened my mouth, I said something completely different.

“The one thing I most regret not doing during my high school career is not asking (y/n) out on a date. I’ve wanted to ever since the day I met her, but I never found the courage to do anything about it,” I paused for a second. _What are you doing, Tom? Your teacher is going to watch this!_ “I think I’ve waited too long, though. She already has a boyfriend.”

I made the ‘cut’ signal, and my friends just stared at me. Their mouths were gaping, and they looked at me as if I’d grown another head. Sheepishly, I got up and took the video camera in hand. I turned it off to save the battery, but, when I looked up, the boys were still staring.

“Why in the hell haven’t you told her, man?” Michael asked. “Hell, why didn’t you tell us that you liked her?”

“I just…well, I didn’t tell her because I was scared out of my wits. I’m _still_ scared out of my wits. As for telling you guys, I just didn’t think you’d want to hear the romantic drabble of a pathetic British transfer student,” I said.

“Man, you’re so stupid sometimes! We’re here for you, and we’d have been fine with hearing all about your love for the beautiful Miss (y/n),” Adam said clapping a hand on my shoulder. “You have a lot of catching up to do.”

I laughed nervously.

“Ehehe, thanks guys,” I said as I packed up my equipment. “I’ll see you later.”

\---

I edited the video for a couple of hours before I was satisfied with it, then I emailed it to my Video Production teacher. I got a response soon after telling me that the video was well executed, and that it would be posted on the school’s YouTube channel within the hour. _Wait, the YouTube channel?! Shit, I can’t let that happen! What if she sees it?_ I emailed my teacher back, but he said that it had already been posted. He asked me why I wouldn’t want it on the channel, but I couldn’t come up with an answer that he seemed satisfied with.

All I could do now was wait and pray that (y/n) never saw that Legacy video.


	2. Reader

As I slapped Matt’s face and fled the lunchroom, I saw Tom standing in the gathering crowd of spectators. He looked pained yet relieved, but I didn’t stop to question what that meant. I was too busy running from the problem that I’d created. I never really cared about Matt, at least, not like the way I care about Tom. In fact, the only reason I’m with Matt is that I wanted to find some way to take Tom off my mind. I thought getting a boyfriend would help me with that, but I was so, so wrong. Every date, every kiss, and every whisper turned into a daydream in which it was Tom instead of Matt. Oh, who was I kidding? Matt was an asshole, and I was glad to finally be able to slap him and end our relationship for good. Before I lashed out, Matt had whispered how he was going to make me his whore at the end-of-the-year party, whether I wanted him to or not.

I ignored everybody around me as I made my way to the library—my one sanctuary. The smell of books always seemed to calm me right down, and I breathed deeply as I walked inside. The smell reminded me of Tom. He was always in the library in his free time, just like me. I let my mind wander as my body wandered to the fantasy section.

I remembered the first time I met Tom. I had rounded a corner in the hallway, when something very tall and _very_ solid slammed into me like a ton of bricks. I felt my binder slip out of my hand, but I took no notice. I had seen the face of the man in front of me, and I was completely mesmerized. His sharp cheekbones, his curly blond hair, his big blue eyes full of concern: all of which combined to make me about as responsive as a dead rat. God, he was gorgeous! I couldn’t help but sneak a glance at his ass as he bent over and retrieved my binder. Somehow I shook myself out of my daze and managed to find my voice.

“I-I’m so sorry! I wasn’t watching where I was going,” I said, and I felt my cheeks heat up. _Damn, why does my body always have to betray my thoughts?_ I reached up and brushed some hair behind my ear. God, I didn’t know where to look! He looked nervous, and I realized that it must be his first day here. I’d never seen him before, and I wondered where he was from. He handed me my binder, which I’d almost forgotten, then cracked a wide smile.

“No, no, it was entirely my fault. I was so busy looking at my schedule that I didn’t look up in time,” he said in a beautiful British accent. _He must be the exchange student,_ I thought. I then abruptly stopped thinking, because he ran a hand through his curly locks. I thought I would faint when they turned into a rather fluffy, rather adorable mess atop his head. “Sorry, where are my manners? My name’s Tom.”

And I was almost _certain_ that I would faint when he held his hand out for me to shake. I took it carefully.

“Nice to meet you, Tom. My name’s (y/n),” I said.

“A beautiful name to suit a beautiful lady: how very appropriate,” he said, and I felt myself blush even brighter than before.

“Thanks. Oh, and thank you for grabbing this,” I said pointing to my binder. “You didn’t have to.”

“Of course I did. I knocked it out of your hand, so it was only fitting that I should be the one to restore it.”

I didn’t want to seem like a stalker, so I spoke my next thoughts quietly.

“Well, it was very kind of you, all the same. You’re the new freshman foreign exchange student, aren’t you?”

Tom looked down and grinned.

“Was it that obvious?” He asked sarcastically, and I couldn’t help but laugh. My, Tom was really charming.

“The accent was a _bit_ of a giveaway,” I responded. It turned out that we were in the same grade, and I helped Tom find his first period class. Tom was very gracious and thanked me over and over again for helping him find his way around. I was so afraid to come off as a stalker that I actually avoided him whenever I could. I couldn’t possibly be feeling what I was feeling after so short a time, or so I thought. I was always kind to him, and I found that I could never refuse to help him when he asked for it. I was deathly afraid that he would find out how I felt if I let my guard down, so I never really let myself show too much emotion when we talked. As the years went by, I wanted—no, I _needed_ —a distraction before I went off the deep end for this boy. That’s where Matt came in. I knew he wouldn’t be a very good boyfriend, and I knew he wouldn’t treat me well, but I was afraid that I would scare Tom off if I made an advance.

Now, years later as a senior, I was still afraid to talk to him more than I had to. It killed me to sit next to him in class every day in Video Production; I didn’t look over at him too often, but I could smell his cologne. Oh, God, it took every ounce of self-restraint in me each and every day not to shove him against a wall and kiss him senseless, but somehow I managed. I couldn’t help but wonder what it would be like if Tom had been my boyfriend instead of Matt. I dreamt that he would be such a gentleman: loving, kind, funny, and just plain amazing. I sighed inwardly as I rounded the bookshelves, slowly stroking the spines of the most worn books the library had to offer. _It’s too late for me to tell him now,_ I thought. _We only have a week left before we all graduate and leave each other forever._ Tom would probably go back to England for college, and there was nothing I could do to stop it.

\---

A couple of days later, I was walking into first period when my best friend, Emily, ran up to me.

“(Y/n)! There you are! You have to see this video!” She cried as she pulled me over to her laptop. The Video Production class’s YouTube page was already pulled up. “So I’d heard about the legacy videos that the Vid Pro students were doing for extra credit, and I decided to watch them, because I was ridiculously bored last night. I found this one and it was almost over when I saw this bit.”

She had set the video playback so that there was only a minute left and then plugged in a set of headphones.

“Put these on,” Em said thrusting them into my hands. I did as she commanded, and she pressed play. Suddenly, Tom was on the screen. _Shit, where was this going?_

“The one thing I most regret not doing during my high school career is not asking (y/n) out on a date. I’ve wanted to ever since the day I met her, but I never found the courage to do anything about it,” he was said, and I froze. _What?_ Tom paused for a moment looking pensive, and tired, and a little sad. “I think I’ve waited too long, though. She already has a boyfriend.”

 _He feels the same way? Wait, he doesn’t know how_ I _feel, yet!_ I thought so rapidly that I felt like I was going to faint. Then I was struck with another thought. _Holy shit! He doesn’t know that I broke up with Matt!_

“Holy shit,” I whispered, and Emily yanked the headphones off of me.

“I know, right? That’s exactly what I thought when I saw that last night!”

“Wait, why didn’t you call me and tell me last night?” I asked, and she shrugged.

“Would you have really wanted me to call you at one in the morning?” She responded. She must have had another bout of insomnia.

“Fair point,” I conceded. Then I panicked. “What do I do? God, Em, what do I _do?_ ”

“Well, what do you _want_ to do? I mean, do you feel the same way?” She asked, attempting to guide me through my minor heart attack with logic.

“Yes. I’ve cared about him since I met him,” I said woodenly. “Should I tell him? After all, he’s probably heading back to England for college, and I don’t know if a long-distance relationship would work out so well.”

Emily looked thoughtfully at me for a moment before replying.

“You know, he may actually be thinking about staying in the U. S. If I were you, I’d tell him as soon as possible, but I wouldn’t do it at school. There are too many people around to ruin it.”

“You’ve given this a lot of thought, haven’t you?” I asked, and she raised her hands I mock surrender.

“Hey, when I get insomnia, I give everything too much thought.”

The rest of the day went by in a blur. I got home, and I tried to study for my finals, but I just couldn’t focus. I was still thinking about what Tom had said, and trying to work out what to do about this crazy situation. I accidentally knocked over my Latin textbook in my pacing back and forth, and it fell open to the glossary. As I went to pick it up, two words caught my eye: ‘Carpe Diem’.

“Seize the day,” I muttered. Shutting my book and throwing it back on my desk, I made up my mind. I found the school’s directory, and looked up Tom’s address. I sprinted out to my car, shouting to my parents that I needed notes from a friend for one of my exams. As I pulled up outside Tom’s house, my heart gave a flutter and skipped a beat. _Oh, God, I’m really doing this._ Slowly I walked up to the front door and knocked. As I waited with baited breath, I stared at my feet fearfully. I heard the knob turn, and looked up to an older woman who was only a bit taller than I was. She smiled sweetly at me, and I was set somewhat at ease.

“Can I help you, dear?” She asked in a soothing British accent. I shuffled on my feet, before answering.

“Yes, ma’am. Actually, that depends on…um, does Tom Hiddleston live here?” I asked nervously.

“Oh, yes, dear. Why don’t you come inside?” She said, and she led me inside to a parlor, of sorts. “Wait here, and I’ll go get Tom for you. Oh, and what was your name, love?”

“I’m (y/n),” I said…and she drew me in for a hug.

“Tom talks about you all the time, dear,” she said, and I felt myself blushing a deep crimson. “Oh, don’t be embarrassed! I’ve only ever heard good things from him.”

“Oh…um…” I was reduced to stuttering, at that point. She wandered out of the room, and I was left on my own in Tom’s house. I was silently freaking out, because _holy shit, I’m in Tom’s house!_

Looking around, I noticed how very British the house was. There was a sort of aura that emanated through the rooms that just felt so proper. _I don’t belong here,_ I thought. _He deserves somebody so much better than me._

“(Y/n)?”

I turned around when I heard Tom’s voice, and my cheeks blushed very brightly.

“Hey,” I squeaked. Tom ran a hand though his hair, just like he did the day I met him, and I felt my knees go weak. He was blushing almost as brightly as I was. God, he looked gorgeous: his jeans fit just right, hugging his thighs and ass perfectly; he was wearing a blue t-shirt that was so thin that it was almost see-through; and his hair was an adorable, curly blond mess. Tom’s big blue eyes were focused solely on me with no distractions for the first time since freshman year.

“To what do I owe the pleasure?” he asked, smiling brightly. _Here I go._

“I just…um…well, I…” I stammered, and I stopped to take a deep breath before I plunged ahead with my question. “Did you mean it?”

“Did I mean what?” he asked, looking confused.

“What you said in the video,” I explained. “Did you really mean that?”

Tom froze, and his lips parted slightly. His breathing sped up, and he went pale.

“Y-you saw that?” He asked, and I could bring myself to do no more than nod. Tom covered his face with his hands and groaned. “I’m so, _so_ sorry, (y/n). I didn’t mean for you to ever see that. I know you have Matt, and I never meant to interfere with that—“

“We broke up,” I said, cutting him off. Tom looked at me as though I’d grown a second head.

“What did you say?” He asked barely above a whisper, taking a step toward me.

“We broke up. After what he said to me a couple of days ago, I couldn’t, in good conscience, stay with him,” I replied. Tom’s expression hardened.

“What did he say to you?”

“It was nothing, really,” I said, but Tom shook his head.

“(Y/n), if it was serious enough to cause your breakup, then I don’t think it was ‘nothing’. However, if you don’t want to talk about it, that’s obviously your decision and I respect that,” Tom said.

“Thank you,” I said, and Tom smiled crookedly.

“You’re welcome, and…yes,” he said. At my blank look, Tom chuckled. “About the video: yes, I did mean it. I meant every single word of it.”

I was stunned, and relieved, and…oh, Hell, I don’t know what I was! I felt something warm roll down my cheek, and I realized that I was crying. Tom looked horrified and a bit confused as he came over to me.

“Oh, God, I didn’t mean to make you cry! I’m so sorry, (y/n),” he said wiping the tears from my cheeks. “I-I didn’t mean to offend you, or…God, I’m so sorry. I never meant to hurt you—“

That was as far as Tom got, because I threw my arms around his neck and buried my face in his chest. I felt Tom freeze up for a split second before hugging me back and resting his head on top of mine.

“You don’t need to apologize; you didn’t offend me, Tom,” I mumbled into his shirt, sniffling pathetically.

“Then…Then why are you crying?” He asked hesitantly. I pulled far enough back to look him in the eyes, and cupped his cheek with my palm.

“Oh, Tom, can’t you see? I’ve felt exactly the same way about you all these years,” I said. “I’m just so relieved that you feel the way I do. I’m just so happy.”

He looked stunned and exhilarated as tears filled his eyes. Tom covered the hand on his face with one of his own, and kissed my wrist.

“Oh, darling girl,” he breathed, and he looked at my lips, unconsciously licking his own. “May I kiss you, (y/n)? Please?”

“Yes,” I whispered, and I closed my eyes as Tom’s head came closer to mine. I felt his nose brush against my own and held my breath. When our lips finally connected, I melted inside and out. I kissed Tom back and felt his arms engulf me, one around my waist, and one around my shoulder with his fingers tangling in my hair. Tom’s tongue gave the smallest of touches to my bottom lip, and I opened my mouth easily for him. Our lips and tongues slid together in perfect harmony, until we broke apart for breath. Tom rested his forehead on mine, and we panted in and out of each other’s mouths.

“Oh, (y/n), you have no idea how long I’ve wanted to do that, to feel your lips on mine,” Tom breathed, lacing our fingers together. We were silent for a few moments, each enjoying the easy company of the other and the casual contact of our linked hands. Tom laughed suddenly and picked me up around the waist, making me squeal and spinning me in circles before setting me back down. He chuckled breathlessly, his arms still holding me tight, and pressed our foreheads together again. “Will you…I mean, would you like to go out some time? We could get dinner and see a movie, unless you’d rather not, of course. I just thought that since—“

I cut him off with another smaller kiss.

“Yes,” I said when I pulled away. “It doesn’t matter what we do, as long as we’re together.”


	3. Tom

When my aunt came to my room and told me that a beautiful young girl by the name of (y/n) was downstairs to see me, I nearly panicked. I was even more shocked when (y/n) told me that she felt the same way as I did. _I kissed her,_ I marveled. _I actually kissed her, and she didn’t push me away. She kissed me back!_ I wanted to dance for joy, and I did when she left my home that night. I’d asked her on a date, she had accepted, and we had kissed several more times before she finally took her leave.

“Tom? I hope you were a gentleman to that sweet young girl,” my aunt said, breaking me out of my trance.

“Of course I was! I would never hurt her, or do anything untoward,” I said defending my honor. My aunt smiled, and placed a hand on my chest.

“I know you wouldn’t, dear. She seems wonderful,” she said, and a mischievous gleam entered her eye. “So did you finally pluck up the courage to begin courting her?”

I blushed and nodded my head.

“Oh, congratulations, Tom! I think this calls for a celebratory cuppa!”

\---

The next day, I saw (y/n) at school and walked over before she noticed me. I slipped my hands around to cover her eyes, and changed my voice.

“Guess who, and get a reward,” I intoned in my best American accent. She laughed gleefully, and pretended to think for a minute before answering.

“Hmm, could it be my Thomas?” She asked, and I allowed her to reclaim her sight. _‘Her Thomas’? I like the sound of that!_ She turned around to face me with a huge smile on her face, which I returned enthusiastically.

“Good morning, darl—“ and that was as far as I got before (y/n) captured my lips with hers. _I could_ definitely _get used to this,_ I thought as her tongue slipped gently inside my mouth. Her arms wrapped around my neck, and I moaned into her mouth as her fingers massaged my scalp.

“Hey, get a room!” A student called across the hallway. Several others let out cat-calls and wolf-whistles as we reluctantly broke apart. I noticed (y/n) was blushing and felt a momentary surge of anger toward the people who made her feel as though she couldn’t even kiss her own boyfriend without being mocked. _Wait,_ am _I her boyfriend?_ We hadn’t even discussed it yet. I didn’t really know what to call this thing between us, but I knew that I never wanted it to end. I shoved my thoughts away, and put my arms around her waist to pull her closer to me.

“Tom?” She mumbled into my shirt, and I chuckled lightly, kissing the top of her head.

“Yes, darling?”

“About that date,” she started, and I braced myself in case she had changed her mind. “Are you free tonight?”

“Yes,” I managed after getting over my initial shock. I had thought that _I_ was supposed to be the one who asked _her._ “What did you have in mind?”

“Why don’t we go to that little park a few blocks down? I could bring us food, and we could watch the stars after the sun sets,” she said, looking up at me hopefully. I smiled and kissed her forehead, then her cheek, then her lips.

“You had me at ‘we’,” I murmured, and she hugged me tighter. “What time should I pick you up?”

“Well, the sun sets around seven thirty, so why not seven? That’ll give us plenty of time to get there and get set up before it gets too dark to see,” she reasoned, and I agreed with a kiss.

“I’ll see you at seven, then, Miss (y/n),” I said as the bell rang for first period. I kissed her lips, and then her hand before we parted, and one thought raged through my mind: _I’m going on a date with (y/n)!_

\---

I pulled up in (y/n)’s driveway about ten minutes early, and settled for pacing back and forth outside her door until exactly seven o’clock. I was almost hilariously nervous because _holy shit, I’m at (y/n)’s house!_ I rang the doorbell with shaking fingers, and immediately heard a shout. The door opened to reveal a tall man in who I guessed was in his fifties. His hair was about half black and half grey, and he had a small, well-groomed beard on his chin. He looked me up and down before smiling politely.

“You must be Tom,” he said extending his hand for me to shake. “(Y/n)’s told us a lot about you, over the years. Come in, son.”

“Yes, sir. Thank you, sir,” I said, stepping inside nervously. I felt her father’s hand on my shoulder, and I jumped a bit.

“Don’t be scared, Tom. I’m not going to bite your head off,” he said in a kindly tone. “I’d like to talk to you for a minute, though, before (y/n) comes downstairs.”

“Of course, sir,” I said, and he led me to a chair in the den. I looked around timidly, not sure where I should sit, or even if I _should_ sit. Thankfully, (y/n)’s father patted the seat next to him on the sofa as he sat down.

“Now, son, I know from what (y/n)’s told me that you’re a foreign exchange student, a hard worker, and a gentleman. That being said, I don’t want her to get hurt when you go back to England, whenever that is,” he started. “Long distance relationships seldom work out, and I’d rather not have my daughter go through that sort of pain.”

I nodded in understanding, and finally made up my mind about college. Whether my family wanted me to stay in America or not made not a whit of difference anymore.

“Sir, I…I _was_ going to go back home for university, but I’ve recently received a large scholarship from the state college here. I was planning on staying in the States for at least long enough for me to get a degree and a job,” I started. “After that, I was hoping to settle down in a more permanent place somewhere around here. I know long distance relationships are difficult, so I was hoping to remove the long distance bit from the equation.”

Her father looked at me with a new-found respect, and smiled.

“I know (y/n) will be pleased to hear that,” he started.

“Please, don’t tell her yet, sir. I was hoping to surprise her with that tonight,” I said, blushing and smiling sheepishly. The older man laughed quietly clapped my shoulder.

“Well, aren’t you just a regular romantic! I know she’ll be glad. She hasn’t stopped talking about you since a few years ago,” he said, and then he leaned in conspiratorially. “If you hadn’t asked her out when you did, I think I would’ve had to come up to that school and knock some sense into you.”

I laughed nervously and looked at my feet.

“You’re so much better than that Matt guy, anyway. He was an ass,” her father declared certainly. “I couldn’t stand how he looked at (y/n): like she was a piece of meat. I’m amazed that I didn’t kill him.”

“I never really met him,” I said, and her father looked at me seriously.

“Be glad that you didn’t,” he said, and we both turned our heads when we heard footsteps coming down the stairs. _Oh, my God,_ I thought when I saw her. _This is it._ I immediately stood and straightened out my shirt, turning to face her. (Y/n) was a vision. She may have been wearing jeans and a t-shirt, but she looked like she should be walking down a runway in Paris. Her hair was gently curled, and her lipstick complimented the color of her eyes nicely. The way she looked at me when she caught sight of me made me think that I’d died and gone to Heaven.

“Hi, Tom,” she said, quietly looking between her father and me as if searching for some sign that he’d tried to strangle me.

“Hello, (y/n). You look gorgeous,” I said, and I was gifted with a beautiful blush and a bright smile spreading across my (y/n)’s lips.

“Thanks, you look pretty great, yourself,” she replied, and it was my turn to blush. I’d played it safe tonight, choosing a dark pair of jeans and a white shirt that buttoned up the front. It wasn’t too casual, but neither was it too formal. I hoped her father approved. (Y/n) walked into the kitchen and grabbed an already full picnic basket before walking over and kissing her father on the cheek.

“You have her back here safe before eleven, son,” her father said in a tone that brooked no argument.

“Yes, sir,” I replied and he shook my hand. He kissed (y/n) on the forehead, and then shooed us out the door. I hurried ahead of (y/n) and opened the car door for her; she looked utterly shocked.

“Uh, wow, thank you,” she said, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear, in, what I now knew as, a nervous habit. I murmured a quick ‘you’re welcome’ before I closed the door after her and jogged around to my side of the car. The ride to the park was short; we didn’t really talk, but, after a moment, I mustered the courage to reach over and hold her hand carefully in mine. She gripped it back a little more firmly.

“I won’t break, you know,” she said smiling, and the tension, the nerves, and the awkwardness, stemming from the fact that this was our first date, melted away into nothingness.


	4. Reader

When I started down the stairs, I could feel my heart pounding in my chest, and I hoped that Tom couldn’t hear it. I saw him when I got about hallway down, and my breath hitched in my throat. _Oh, my God, he looks fantastic!_ Tom was wearing a crisp, white shirt with rolled up sleeves, and an almost black pair of jeans that showed off all the right muscles. His hair was still the curly blond mess that I was so familiar with, but it looked like a perfect blend of chaos and order, now. When his eyes met mine, I swear I almost fainted.

In a few minutes that passed in a blur, Tom had opened the passenger door of his car for me, and we were off toward the park. I didn’t really know what to say during the first few minutes, because I didn’t want to ruin this amazing feeling. I felt a warm weight settle on top of my hand gently, and I looked over to see that it was Tom’s hand. I smiled to myself, and squeezed his hand back. He was holding my fingers so lightly that it made me think that he was afraid I would shatter.

“I won’t break, you know,” I said smiling at him. At that, Tom held on a bit tighter, and our previously nonexistent conversation began to flow easily. The ride went by quickly; soon we had parked the car, and Tom and I were walking hand in hand down one of the paths that led to a clearing. Tom had insisted upon carrying the picnic basket, and who was I to refuse such a gentlemanly act? I had brought a couple of blankets along so we wouldn’t have to sit in the grass, and I now spread them out for us. Tom set down the basket, and we both sat, holding hands the whole time.

“I know I’ve already said this once tonight, but you look absolutely amazing, (y/n),” Tom said, and I blushed again turning my gaze to the blanket beneath us.

“Thank you,” I said. “Tom? What is this? I mean, what should we call this _thing_ that’s happening between us?”

Tom looked at me thoughtfully, his brow furrowing the slightest bit.

“Well, if I’m not being too presumptuous, I would be thrilled—honored—to be able to call you my girlfriend,” he said quietly, and he raised my hands to his lips, kissing my knuckles.

“I want that, too. I really, _really_ do,” I said earnestly, “but, Tom, if you’re going back to England for college…Tom, I don’t think I could handle a long distance relationship. I-I’m not strong enough to be away from you that long.”

I felt Tom’s hands pull away from mine and reposition themselves on either side of my face.

“(Y/n), look at me, please,” he said, and I did. His blue eyes were full of concern as they flitted over my face. I took in his golden curls, which looked almost ginger in the light of the setting sun, and I realized that I would almost certainly die if I had to be away from him for too long. I drank in the beautiful curves of his ruby lips, and I felt tears welling up in my eyes as if there was already an ocean between us. “Darling, I’m…I’m not going back to England yet.”

“What?” I asked dumbly. Tom smiled and stroked my cheeks with his thumbs.

“I’m not going back to England for college, maybe not ever. I want to be here with you, for you, by your side always,” he said, and my heart stopped. _He wants to be with me? He would give up his home for me?_ “I don’t ever want to be parted from you, my lovely (y/n).”

“You would give up your home and your family for me?” I asked incredulously, and Tom nodded. “Why?”

Tom smiled and pressed his lips to mine in a slow, passionate kiss. When we separated, he looked directly into my eyes and spoke with more urgency than ever.

“Can’t you see, (y/n)? Can’t you see how much I care about you, how much I love you?” He asked and the tears I’d been trying to hold back cascaded down my cheeks. Tom drew me onto his lap, holding me in a warm, strong embrace. His arms completely engulfed me, and I buried my face in his chest, still sobbing. One of Tom’s hands made its way up and tangled in my hair, and he rested his chin on the top of my head. “Oh, my darling girl, I love you so much.”

“I love you, too, Tom,” I murmured into his chest when my tears subsided somewhat. _Thank God, I wore clear mascara instead of my usual black stuff,_ I thought as I wrapped my fingers even more tightly around Tom’s shoulders. _At least I didn’t stain his shirt._ We held each other close for a few moments before I leaned back a bit and ensnared Tom’s lips with my own. The kiss was deep, unhurried, and full of longing. The way our tongues mingled in our mouths made us each moan into the other’s lips. My hands found their way into Tom’s hair, and he gently moved me off of his lap, laying me down on my back and hovering over me. Our legs were slotted together and Tom supported himself on his forearms, which were placed on either side of my head. We kissed for quite a long time as the stars came out. We never did more than that, though; both of us wanted to savor this feeling, not cloud it with lust.

When it was dark enough for us to pick out the individual constellations, Tom reluctantly rolled to the side, grabbing both of my hands with his. Our arms formed two perfect V’s across our bodies where our hands were linked. We talked for hours about anything and everything, sharing the food that we’d brought before we agreed that we’d better head back.

Tom walked me back up to the porch, arriving home at 10:45. We stood on the porch for at least five more minutes, both of us loathe to leave each other’s sight. I slipped my cell phone number in Tom’s pocket while our lips danced, and whispered for him to call me as soon as he got home so that I would know that he was safe. He agreed with another kiss to my forehead and nose, before we said ‘goodnight.’


	5. Tom

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *Trigger Warning: Mention of attempted rape.*

“Tom, where are we going,” my wife asked, as she reached up to pull the blindfold off of her eyes. I reached up carefully as I parked the car and arrested her hands’ movements.

“Please, don’t, love. I want this to be a surprise,” I said with a slight begging tone in my voice. She sighed in mock exasperation and dropped her hands back to her lap.

“Fine, fine,” she said. I leaned in and kissed her cheek as a reward for her patience.

“Thank you, my lovely (y/n),” I muttered in her ear, and I quickly walked around to her side of the car to open the door for her. I had already set everything up just like it had been all those years ago: I’d laid out the blankets, packed a picnic basket, and waited until just the right time to drive us out to the little park where we’d shared our first date. Carefully, I guided my beautiful wife down the same path that we’d taken on that first night, and stopped her just at the edge of the blankets. “Take off your blindfold.”

(Y/n) did as I asked, and I heard her draw in a breath with a sharp gasp. Her hands covered her mouth, and, before I could react, she’d turned around and flung her arms around my neck. I felt a set of warm lips covering my neck and face with kisses, and I couldn’t help but laugh at the joy I felt in having her as my wife. _I am the luckiest man on earth,_ I thought as her lips finally collided with mine.

“Happy Anniversary, (y/n),” I murmured as we broke apart for air.

“Oh, Tom,” she breathed. “Happy Anniversary, love.”

We both went and sat on the blankets, holding hands just like we had on our first date. As I looked into my angel’s eyes, I couldn’t help but feel anger about what had happened next, all those years ago. We had decided to go to the party that was being held at the end of our senior year; I wish to God that we hadn’t. Matt, that horrible bastard, decided that he would take matters into his own hands. I’d gone to get a soda to share with (y/n), leaving her with a group of her friends, and when I got back, she was gone.

“Where’d (y/n) go?” I asked.

“She went off somewhere with Matt,” they replied, and I nearly dropped the soda I was holding. I knew she would never voluntarily go anywhere with him. She was in danger, I could feel it.

“Where?! Where’d he take her?” I asked frantically, trying not to panic and hoping that I wasn’t already too late.

“Backyard, I think,” one of them said, but I never looked to see which one it had been. I was too busy sprinting down the stairs of the house’s back porch to notice anything else. I heard a shrill scream to my left where the yard abutted a grove of trees, and I set off at breakneck speed. Tearing through the undergrowth, I called (y/n)’s name. I heard the sounds of a struggle and ran until I saw them. (Y/n)’s jeans had been torn almost all the way off her legs, shredded by something sharp, her shirt was split down the front, and there was blood trickling from her bottom lip.

And _he_ was grappling with her flying fingers; her nails were being put to good use as sharp little claws, tearing path after bloody path across Matt’s face. I saw red. I tore across the small space between us, and punched Matt right in his arrogant face. Nothing felt quite as good as did the resulting crunch of his breaking nose.

“Run, (y/n)! Run and get the police,” I called as Matt and I squared off. To make a long story short, Matt ended up with more bruises, scrapes, and broken bones than he ever would’ve thought I could’ve given him. What he didn’t know is that he’d hurt the one person who meant more than life to me: he’d hurt my (y/n), and he paid dearly for his mistake.

When the police had left, hauling a very loud, very drunk Matt with them, I ran to (y/n) and scooped her up in my arms.

“Are you alright? What did he do to you?” I asked, and a horrible thought occurred to me. “He…He didn’t force you to…”

I trailed off and she shook her head.

“He tried to, but I fought back. He didn’t expect me to fight back,” she said quietly, and I felt her shaking under my touch. It was a windy night, and, since Matt had seen fit to tear (y/n)’s clothes, I wrapped my leather jacket around her shoulders. I walked her over to my car, and dug around in the trunk until I found the t-shirt and old pair of sweatpants that I kept in there for emergencies. Trying to cover her as best I could, I led (y/n) to a bathroom inside the house to change clothes. Everybody else had left, so it was just me, (y/n), and the family of the senior who lived there.

While she was changing, I called (y/n)’s parents to tell them what had happened, conveniently leaving out how badly I’d hurt Matt, settling instead for telling them that I’d distracted him while she escaped. (Y/n) had eventually told them what I’d done, of course, and—despite my many varied protests—they’d treated me like a hero. I still don’t know why they were so surprised that I’d defended their daughter. After all, I loved (y/n) with all my heart. Why would I have ever done any differently?

“Tom?” (Y/n)’s voice brought me back to the present and I kissed her with a slow, burning passion.

“What is it, love?” I asked when we pulled apart. She looked down nervously, just like she had on our first date, before looking back at me and speaking.

“I-I have a surprise for you, too,” she said, and she reached into the small purse that she’d brought with her. I stared uncomprehendingly at the item she pulled out before the full magnitude of what she was showing me crashed into me like a tidal wave. In my wife’s hands, I saw a baby’s pacifier.

“Oh, God, are you…?” I asked, unable to finish the question, because my voice broke as tears welled up in my eyes.

“Yes,” she breathed, and the floodgates burst. We both sobbed happily, kissing each other and sniffling, before (y/n), my beautiful wife, the love of my life, kissed me on the nose and buried her face in the crook of my neck. “We’re going to be parents, Tom.”

 _And to think,_ I thought to myself. _None of this would’ve happened without that Legacy video._


End file.
